


Atropa Belladonna

by SithHappens



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Myrrh... Myrrh-der!, modern!Ivar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-11-02 01:57:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20582975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SithHappens/pseuds/SithHappens
Summary: Or, A Beautiful Woman in Her Garden (modern!Ivar x Reader)





	Atropa Belladonna

**Author's Note:**

  * For [livebynight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/livebynight/gifts).

“I must say, this invitation came as a surprise. Especially considering our recent… disagreements.”

A polite way of putting it, you reckoned, smiling at the man sat in your garden; looking all too out of place amidst the greenery with his navy suit, an air of undue ease about him. Perhaps even a bit of smugness despite the privacy of the setting. It was certainly noteworthy that he would be invited to the Lothbrok Estate -to meet with Ivar directly, no less- even if it was the Boss’s woman who technically requested his presence. His bodyman, at least, stood out of the way, near your potting bench tucked back in the corner.

Ivar was dressed more relaxed, in the comfort of his own home as he was, but there was definitely a sharpness about him. A tight jaw and furrowed brow as he barely manage to hide his sneer. “Oh yes, I quite disagree with some upstart trying to move in on my territory. Trying to sabotage my operations!”

“Now boys…” you chuckled warmly, placing a soothing hand on Ivar’s arm, earning his reluctant pause. Your attention turned to the other man who’d begun to shift slightly in his seat. “I did ask you here to talk business, of course. Try to figure out something between us. But I’ll admit I was also hoping to stretch my hostessing skills a bit this fine afternoon. Hence meeting in my garden. I’m quite proud of it.”

This seemed to ease the man once again, his eyes giving a cursory scan around him. “I’m not much for plants myself, but it does look nice. And I appreciate the spread. You must have put a lot of work into both.”

“Thank you.” It was easy to beam a bit at that, though it lacked much sincerity. Picking up the ornate porcelain teapot from the table, you reached over to start pouring into the cups at each place setting. “Yes, I’m very fond of gardening and cooking. I feel they go hand-in-hand most of the time. And it’s important to get your hands dirty once in awhile.”

The man nodded absently as you finished filling his teacup and moved onto filling your own. Now Ivar was hardly one for niceties when they did not directly serve him, but he did usually endeavour to remain professional. And per your arrangement, the gardens were  _ your  _ space, and thus this meeting yours to lead… for now. So despite his fuming, he feigned his own sense of cordiality, picking up one of the delicate pastries from the tray. “She’s very good at both.”

“I have no doubt,” your guest replied with a forced smile. Yet, it quickly faded into a wary look when he noticed the empty cup in front of Ivar. Perhaps the man wasn’t quite as dumb as he looked. “You’re not having any?”

“Mr. Spoil-sport is a coffee man.” You rolled your eyes playfully, lifting up your cup in a small salute. “But I feel tea is more suited to a meeting in a garden. Wouldn’t you agree?”

With that, you took a sip from your own cup, reassuring your guest with a delighted hum. And your smile only grew as he slowly acquiesced to drinking his own. But your eyes grew wide as you sat down your cup with a dainty clink, chuckling at yourself. “Oh where are my manners? Ivar might not want any, but that doesn’t mean your friend here should miss out.”

A soft huff from Ivar drew your attention to his dour face, obviously wishing to get on with the matter. You gave him a quick wink while filling his cup before picking out a few treats to set on a plate. “I suppose while I play hostess, you two should get down to business.”

You ignored your guests rather rude sigh of  _ Finally  _ under his breath that he quickly tried to hide in another sip of tea. Instead, you offered him a polite, but pointed look as you stood with the freshly filled cup and matching plate. “You know, ambition is a very admirable quality. And you’ve obviously managed to carve out a name for yourself with a little power behind it. But war is a messy affair. I think it would be best for both sides if there were a simpler solution.”

“War,” Ivar scoffed with a bitter laugh, even as you carried your wares to the man by your potting bench. “War would assume some equal footing between us. You’re little more to me than a rat trying to nest in this garden.”

It was a sentiment he’d voiced to you before and you barely hid your smirk at the memory, offering the saucer to the bodyman. He took it despite his slight bristling, no doubt viewing you and the delicate cup as little obstacle between him and his duties. The little plate of food found a place beside your gardening tools glinting in the afternoon sun while the men at the table continued their discussion.

“And yet here I sit, at your very own table,” your guest replied, that smug air about him again. “So I must have something on the rat. Otherwise why would you…”

His little gloat was interrupted by a slight cough and an absent tug at his lapel. “Why would you bring me here if you weren’t worried about… about…”

A clearing of his throat quickly turned into a full on coughing fit and an unexpected thrill went up your spine as he began to sputter. However, the bodyman soon took notice, settling the cup back in its saucer before he had a chance to drink himself. “Boss?”

Your weeding knife was handy enough and the man not too tall. He barely made it two steps before you sank the blade into his neck, the sharp edge catching bone at one point with a sickening grind. Maybe such a gruesome sound should have disturbed you, or the way he gurgled and flailed with another swing of your arm. But you only really flinched at the spray of hot blood that splashed across your face and clothes. And the crack of your teacup under the weight of his body as he crashed to the ground beneath him.

An answering clatter drew your attention back to the table, where your guest had finally lurched forward in a scatter of dishes. Ivar sat in the farthest seat, perched at the edge with his mouth agape. Shock and confusion, a look you didn’t get to see too often on his handsome face. When his blue eyes turned to you in question, you smiled at him as your hands patted down the man in the grass in search of his weapon.

“Like rats in the garden, my love.”

It was strangely beautiful, watching the shift in him from understanding to morbid glee, eyes flashing. A wide grin overtaking his features with the sound of his vicious laughter. Having found the weapon you sought, you made your way back to him, passing your slumped guest. He still clung to life, but his grip was as feeble as the fingers twitching against his throat, mouth purpled and eyes bulged, shattered porcelain biting into the skin of his cheek and temple. For a moment, you considered using his man’s gun to put him out of his misery, but you remembered his threat to Ivar’s life and livelihood, no matter how insignificant. Besides, it wouldn’t be too much longer now.

“You planned all this? For me?” Face alight with pride and a wicked sort of delight, Ivar extended a hand to you, which you took naturally, eagerly, hesitating only to discard the gun on the table before he pulled you to sit in his lap, arms wrapped about your waist. Your heart full at his positive giddiness as he gazed upon the now-deceased enemy across from him. “It looked agonizing. Both of them, but especially this one.”

“Quite agonizing from my understanding,” you agreed, settling against him with a dire nod. “But it’s what they deserve for trying to take what’s yours… Or what’s mine.”

The pure, heated admiration in his eyes had your heart fluttering when he looked at you, even more so when his thumb swiped gently through the smear of blood on your cheek. But then concern suddenly crinkled his brow. “The tea? But you..”

You kissed him then, lips slotted perfectly against his own, both your mouths opening slightly in this familiar affection. And you knew he could feel the barest tingle from the poison when he gasped and parted from you with widened eyes.

“I’ve been building up an immunity,” you assured him, though you reached to wipe absently at his lips just the same. “Don’t worry. I didn’t have enough to cause any real harm. Can’t say the same for him, of course.”

No sooner had you explained, than Ivar was capturing you in another kiss. This one deeper and purposeful, stealing your breath and tasting into your mouth like it fed him. When he finally relented, he pressed his forehead to yours with a little grin, noses nuzzled together and eyes hooded until he glanced over at all the mayhem once more.

“And did your clever little plan include what to do with the bodies, my love,” he asked lightly and tucked you even closer to him. Paying no mind to the press of your blood-splattered clothes against his clean ones.

After a thoughtful hum, you replied with your own little smirk. “What do we do with any pest we kill in the garden? We use them to our benefit… in the compost.”

Another bark of laughter and Ivar pressed a kiss to your temple. “Perfect.”

“It is a pity about the tea set though,” you sighed with a pout, noting your own cup had wound up in the grass with a noticeable crack. No doubt jostled there when the man fell onto the table. “I really liked it.”

“I’ll get you another. It’s the least I can do as a thank you for such a fine surprise.” As morbid as his cheeriness may have been, you couldn’t help melting a little as he beamed at you, adoring. “My woman is too good to me sometimes.”

All you could do was shake your head with a chuckle, pressing your lips to his again. Basking in each other in the center of your garden with the smell of blood and blooming nature in the air.

  
  
  
  



End file.
